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A MERRY SCOUT 













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Tilda and baby Maggie in her brand-new coach 



A MERRY SCOUT 


By 

EDNA PAYSON BRETT 


Illustrated by 

GARADA CLARK RILEY 



RAND M9NALLY & COMPANY 


CHICAGO 


NEW YORK 


Copyright, 1922 , by 
Rand M9Nally & Company 


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Made' in U. S. A. 


OCT -2 1922 


©C1A683502 


THE CONTENTS 


PAGE 

A Merry Scout 7 

Lending the Baby 28 

Robert’s Adventure . 44 

Sandy’s Valentine ^.55 







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Davy was counting the time until he could be a real scout 






A MERRY SCOUT 


A MERRY SCOUT 

He didn’t belong to any patrol — he 
wasn’t a real scout at all, but it wasn’t 
Davy’s fault. He was only nine and a half, 
you see, and that meant two years and six 
months of waiting — oh, such long waiting it 
seemed to Davy — before he could wear the 
coveted arrow-head badge of the tenderfoot 
scout and go hiking and camping like big 
Cousin Fred. 

That is how the figures stood late in 
December. It was the summer before, at 
Grandfather’s, that Davy had first begun 
counting the time until he should be twelve. 
There, at the farm, he had met Cousin 


8 


A MERRY SCOUT 


Fred. Fred was sixteen years old, a first-class 
scout, patrol leader in his home town, and 
a winner of the life-saving merit badge. 
But he had never felt too big to take Davy 
for a Sunday hike over the hills, relating 
thrilling tales of scout camp life and wood- 
craft ; telling all about scout law, with its 
twelve hard things every scout must be and 
the daily good turn every scout must do ; 
explaining the different badges, the oath, and 
the salute. What wonder that Davy wanted 
to be a scout most of anything in the world ! 

Shortly after his return in the autumn 
Davy determined to take matters into his 
own hands. Accordingly, one day, standing 
before his looking-glass and raising his right 
hand, palm to the front, he solemnly swore to 
the oath, all by himself ; then he pinned under 
his jacket, right over his heart, a secret 
badge of his own designing. There he had 
worn it ever since, and considered himself as 
honor-bound to the oath as any scout living. 


A MERRY SCOUT 


9 


It was now two days before Christmas. 
There had been a snowstorm, clearing about 



Standing before his looking-glass , Davy swore to the oath , by himself 


noon. Davy had hailed it with whoops of 
delight. Now, by shoveling walks, he might 
earn money to get a Christmas present for 
Mother and Father, after all. It could not 
be the magnificent azalea and real leather 
pocketbook he had first dreamed of — that 


10 


A MERRY SCOUT 


had been on the expectation of at least six 
snowstorms ; but there was a gay little 
Jerusalem cherry tree for Mother, and for 
Dad a beauty of a tie, red and green 
changeable. Davy had selected them days 
ago— all he was waiting for was a job. 
What luck it should be Saturday and no 
school! 

When the one o’clock whistle blew, Davy 
and his snow shovel were well on their way, 
bound for an attractive-looking corner house 
out on the avenue — corner houses were 
twice the job of ordinary places. Davy 
pressed the bell button confidently. A sour- 
looking maid opened the door an inch, 
snapped out “No,” and banged it to before 
Davy could get out a word. He stood 
staring at the door for a moment, his mouth 
still open, but a minute later he was striding 
across the street to the opposite corner, once 
more wearing his sturdy scout smile. There, 
however, they kept a hired man; next door, 





For one reason or another , nobody seemed to need Davy s services 




12 


A MERRY SCOUT 


a big boy was already at work. For one 
reason or another, nobody seemed to need 
Davy’s services, and it began to look as if 
Daddy and Mother might not get their 
Christmas gifts at all ; only, Davy was 
determined. At last a nice little lady twin- 
kled “yes” over her spectacles. But Davy was 
only on his third contract, with a shortage 
of ten cents staring him in the face, when 
the town clock struck four. 

“Well, I declare, you work as if you 
meant business!” A jolly old man paused 
at Davy’s elbow. “Come up to number 
seventy Lexington Avenue — electric light in 
front — and I’ll give you a job. My pay 
is thirty cents. If you aren’t there by a 
quarter of five, I’ll take it you’ve struck 
something nearer by and do it myself. 

“Oh, I’ll be there, all right. Thank 
you, sir!” Davy’s spirits rose to the crown 
of his cap. The necktie and cherry tree were 
in sight again — and a box of candy too. 


A MERRY SCOUT 


13 


Fifteen minutes later he was scuttling 
out to Lexington Avenue. As he was cross- 



Davy nearly ran down a young lady dashing along with a suitcase and 
an umbrella , in a frantic effort to overtake a passing trolley 


ing the street, a block or two from the 
railroad station, he nearly ran down a 
young lady dashing along with a suitcase, 
a handbag, and an umbrella, in a frantic 
effort to overtake a passing trolley. 


14 


A MERRY SCOUT 


“Hey, there, hey!” yelled Davy, but 
the car whizzed right along. 

“Oh, dear!” panted the young lady, 
dropping her suit case. “I’ve lost it, and 
there won’t be another Fletcher Avenue car 
for fifteen minutes.” She looked as if about 
to drop, herself, and Davy involuntarily 
stretched out a small hand to steady her. 

“Thank you,” she gasped. “ I do feel a 
little shaky, running with this heavy luggage. 
I believe I’ll go around the corner to the 
drug store and get something hot — provided 
I can secure a trusty young man to watch 
my suitcase.” She smiled confidently down 
into Davy’s honest face. “I’ll be back in 
ten minutes, in time to catch the. next car.” 

“Oh, you can trust me, sure!” Davy 
smiled back. A scout has to be helpful and 
courteous, especially to people in trouble. 

“And you’ll stay right here with it and 
not let any one touch it? It contains all 
my Christmas presents, you see.” 


A MERRY SCOUT 


15 


Davy promised with his hand over his 
badge, but of course she couldn’t see that 
away under his jacket ! 

He watched her anxiously as she crossed 
the street and turned the corner. Then he 
sat down on one end of the bag, his snow 
shovel at his feet, and began to consider. 

It was now twenty-two minutes after 
four by the clock in the little tailor shop 
at his left, and he must meet his appoint- 
ment at a quarter of five or lose his job. 
Luckily, he had planned to get there ahead 
of time — and she would be back in ten 
minutes — so he’d keep his date all right. 

Trinity chimes pealed the half-hour. 
Eight minutes gone, and she hadn’t returned. 

Now in the distance appeared a Fletcher 
Avenue car — her car, that she would surely be 
back to take ! It approached, passed— and 
she hadn’t come. Something must have hap- 
pened ! If he could only go around the corner 
and find out — but there was his promise. 


16 


A MERRY SCOUT 


Another five minutes gone — why didn’t 
she come? He might still make it if he ran. 

The chimes rang out a quarter of five ! 
It was all up now about the job, and he 
was still ten cents short on his Christmas 
fund, for he could not take a tip from the 
lady— a scout may never accept pay for 
a good turn. A chill wind was coming up, 
and it was growing darker and darker on 
the lonely corner. Davy stood up and 
stamped his feet to get out the numbness. 
But a scout has to be cheerful, no matter 
what , and he tried to whistle. 

The town clock struck five. The little 
tailor came out of his little shop, rattled his 
big key in his door, and was gone, leaving 
Davy lonesomer than ever. He brushed his 
eyes with his coat sleeve. A scout, cry? 
Never ! But he was so cold and lonesome 
and disappointed about the job ! He hadn’t 
thought that being a scout would be just 
like this. 


A MERRY SCOUT 


17 


Then suddenly, clearer than the chimes, 
he seemed to hear Cousin Fred’s cheerful 
voice again, reciting their favorite passage 
from the law : “A scout is brave. He has 
the courage to face danger in spite of fear.” 
And Davy knew, for sure, that he wasn’t 
going to desert his post, no, not even if it 
meant an all-night watch ! He . turned up 
his coat collar and with better success started 
whistling again, keeping time with his toes as 
he paced up and down. 

“Hello, pard, waitin’ fer yer airship?’’ 
A burly young tough whom Davy had 
noticed hanging around the opposite corner 
swaggered up with a cigarette in his mouth. 
“ What yer got there ? Nuggets or bombs ? ’’ 
giving the suitcase a kick. “Aw, say,” he 
added, with a crafty smile, “I’ll mind it 
whilst yer beat it to Jakey’s fer a bag o’ 
peanuts,” and he held out a nickel. 

“Oh, no, thank you.” Davy sat down 
on the suitcase in a hurry. “I couldn’t 


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Davy turned up his coat collar and started whistling 


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A MERRY SCOUT 


19 


think of leaving it to anyone, not even some- 
body I know. I promised her, you see — the 
young lady — to keep it till she came back. 
It’s got all her Christmas presents in it!” 
Davy added proudly. 

The ruffian’s eyes narrowed. He cun- 
ningly changed his tactics. “Say, kid, what 
did she look like — her that belongs to the 
bag ? ” 

“All kind o’ brown clothes and pretty 
and dreadful white in the face. Maybe 
you’ve seen her?” wistfully. 

“Well, what do yer know!” Davy felt 
his arm clutched tight. “Believe me, pard, 
that young lady’s a pertic’ler friend o’ 
mine ! And if you ’ll jest remove yerself 
from her trunk there, I’ll be ^-lighted to 
fetch it to her. Here, I’ll stand fer her 
tip,” trying to slip a coin into Davy’s hand. 

“No, sir!” Davy set his jaw fast and 
plumped down his little body more protect- 
ingly than ever over his charge. 


20 


A MERRY SCOUT 


“Aw, yer won’t, won’t yer? We’ll 
see,” sneered the ruffian, casting a furtive 
glance to right and left. 

In an agony Davy followed his glance, 
but no help was in sight — save an approach- 
ing trolley, and that probably wouldn’t 
stop. Oh, if only some one would come, 
or if he were only bigger, or had a magic 
sling like that David of old ! But no, all 
unarmed he must meet his giant Goliath. 
Was ever a true scout up against heavier 
odds? Then, in his dire need, he seemed 
to hear Cousin Fred’s voice again, “A scout 
has the courage ... to stand uf for the right 
. . . against the threats of enemies . . . and 
defeat does not down him.” 

Davy braced himself for whatever might 
come — and it came promptly. A sharp 
wrench, a vicious punch, and the suitcase 
was in the hands of the enemy, and Davy 
flattened on the ground, well-nigh winded. 
It was a black moment for the brave little 


A MERRY SCOUT 


21 



“Aw, yer won't, won't yer? We'll see," sneered the ruffian 


scout. Everything lost — and what would 
she think ? And he had tried so hard ! 

Then — Ah, the trusty snow shovel, 
Davy’s ally that hadn’t been reckoned on. 
Tvip-ity-vip ! ’ Over it went the enemy with 
an ugly growl, sprawling into the gutter ! 

And the car had stopped, depositing a 
broad-shouldered young man who saw what 


22 


A MERRY SCOUT 


had occurred and was now making rapid 
strides toward Davy. The ruffian, scenting 
trouble, picked himself up, and limped a 
double-quick retreat through the shadow and 
around the corner — with out the bag! 

“Well, well, here you are, standing by 
your guns, just as she said you’d be !” The 
young man was addressing Davy, who had 
managed to get on his legs once more and 
regain his charge. “Say, but you’re game 
all right!” At the word of appreciation 
and the comradely slap on his shoulder, 
Davy suddenly didn’t mind any more about 
the long waiting, losing the job, and having 
the wind knocked out of him. 

“You’re looking pretty white about the 
gills, though,” the big young man’s voice 
was very kind. “Beastly long ten minutes, 
wasn’t it? She didn’t count on fainting, 
you see, and that sort of thing. She’s my 
sister — teaches in the South — was going to 
spring a surprise on the family by coming 


A MERRY SCOUT 


23 



Ah, the trusty snow shovel, trip-ity-rip! Over it went the enemy 


home for the holidays. Here, I’ll take that 
ark off your hands and start you homeward. 
Your folks’ll be getting worried about you.” 

Oh, how Davy longed to accept the prof- 
fered release ! But no, “I — I — I can’t,” he 
stammered. “ I promised, and a scout has to 
keep his word.” Oh, it was hard to say “no” 
to this friendly young man. It took almost 
more courage than fighting the ruffian. 



24 


A MERRY SCOUT 


“Well, that’s a good one on me!” The 
big young man turned away his face to save 
Davy’s feelings. “A scout, did I hear you 
say?’’ He was quite serious now. “But 
you’re some way short of twelve?” 

Then, of course, Davy had to tell about 
the secret badge, who he was, where he 
lived, Cousin Fred, and the encounter with 
the ruffian. 

“Come, give us your hand, brother 
scout. You’re the real article, certificate or 
no certificate!” Davy’s small, mittened 
palm was taken in a mighty grip. “Now 
stand on the suitcase and look here”— the 
big young man opened his greatcoat — “on 
my sleeve, can you see?” taking out a 
pocket flashlight. 

Davy saw. The badge of the scout 
master — a sure guarantee of all that was 
honorable and loyal, trustworthy and brave. 
It was like the coming of the Prince in 
fairy tales. Davy’s eyes glowed. Words 


A MERRY SCOUT 


25 


failed him, but off came his right red mitten 
and three fingers were raised to his forehead 
in reverent salute. Then he quietly slipped 
from the suitcase, and, the weary watch 
over at last, joyfully resigned his charge 
into lawful hands. 

“I say! you’re a dandy little scout, 
just the kind I ’m looking for. And if 
only I were a magician, I’d hustle those 
next three birthdays of yours along in rio 
time at all. But here’s your car — you’ll 
hear from us later. Good-by!” And with 
a parting slap for Davy and a nickel to 
the conductor, the scout master was gone. 

On Christmas morning there came a 
package and a letter for Davy, both in 
the same unfamiliar hand. The package 
contained a most wonderful book, and the 
letter read: 

My Dear Little Merry Scout: 

Yes, that is what I have named you, for where 
would there have been any Merry Christmas for me 


26 


A MERRY SCOUT 


but for your valiant defense of my precious bag! I 
am so sorry for what you had to endure on my behalf, 
but I am very happy to add to my acquaintance one 
more person who can be trusted, whatever the cost 
to him. Surely, never was a real, truly boy scout 
more faithful to his oath than my little scout of the 
secret order. 

I hope you will enjoy the Animal Book and Camp- 
Fire Stories, by Dan Beard, National Scout Commis- 
sioner, which my brother and I are sending you as a 
small token of our gratitude. 

We are planning to see you very soon. 

Most cordially your friend, 

Agatha Alden. 

“Gee!” gasped Davy, turning raptur- 
ously from letter to book and back to 
letter again. “But any scout would have 
had to do it, wouldn’t he, Dad?” 

Father, admiring his new Christmas tie 
before the sideboard mirror, smiled down 
into Davy’s earnest face reflected therein. 
“I should certainly say he would, my son,” 
he agreed, without hesitation. But the eyes 
he turned to Mother, across the room, were 
brimming over with pride. 


A MERRY SCOUT 


27 



On Christmas morning there came a package and a letter for Davy 


“Our little Merry Christmas Scout,” 
softly responded Mother, who was tending 
a gay little Jerusalem cherry tree at the 
window. Sometimes there are bargains, you 
know, the last thing before Christmas, and 
so Davy’s ten-cent shortage didn’t matter, 
after all! 



LENDING THE BABY 


Lakeside Park was fairly a-blossom with 
children that bright summer morning, babies 
and babies — chubby little boys in clean 
jaunty blouses, dainty little girls, fresher 
than the posies as they skipped about in 
their spick-and-span frocks — all safeguarded 
by grown-ups. 

Bumpity-bump! Nurses, big sisters, and 
children turned out in a hurry to make 
room for Tilda, of the tenement, and baby 
Maggie in her brand-new coach. Tilda 
nodded and smiled shyly at the other little 
boys and girls as she pushed along the 
gorgeous gocart, a present that very morn- 
ing from dear, freckled, carrot-headed Pete, 
of the same crowded tenement. Pete had 
made it his own self a-purpose for Maggie, 
out of a nice soap box and a pair of old 


28 


LENDING THE BABY 


29 


wheels taken in trade with the rag man. 
And the red paint — the crowning glory of 
it all — he had earned doing odd jobs for 
Michael, the carpenter. 

Wee Maggie, scrubbed to a polish, dim- 
pled and babbled as she rumbled along. 
And what mattered to Tilda any longer the 
hot mile of dusty city walk — the tiresome 
journey from the tenement — now at last 
she had reached her beloved park? Oh, the 
cool, woodsy, sweet-smelling park! Here 
you could see such lots of the blue sky 
above the wavy trees and look as much as 
you liked at brilliant beds of geraniums 
and verbenas — so long as you didn’t pick 
them. And here, down by the ripply 
water, you could watch the whitest swans 
gliding along so elegantly, but not too 
superior to accept the bits of cake tossed 
from the bank by their young admirers. 

By and by Tilda turned into a secluded 
path and came suddenly upon a lady seated 


30 


A MERRY SCOUT 


all alone on a rustic bench. She was lean- 
ing her head on one hand and paying not 
a speck of attention to any of the beautiful 
things about her, not even to Mr. Robin, 
who was calling “cheer up” so insistently 
from the tip-toppest twig of the neighboring 
birch. 

Deary me, what could be the matter? 
Tilda halted for exactly one quarter of a 
minute, then, dropping the cart handle, tip- 
toed across the grass, and, gently nudging 
the lady’s arm, whispered, “Are you sick, 
missis?’’ 

The stranger started and glanced up, 
very much surprised to find a small girl 
in a faded, patched gingham gazing at her 
with solicitous gray eyes. 

“Oh, no, child, I’m not ill, thank you! 
What made you think — but who is that 
little one in the wagon?” she asked with 
a sudden show of interest, interrupting 
herself. 



Deary me, what could be the matter? 









32 


A MERRY SCOUT 


“Why, that’s my baby.” Tilda grew 
tall with pride. 

“ Your baby!” The sad lady very nearly 
smiled. 

“Yes, isn’t she grand?” Tilda shoved 
the cart close up to the bench. “She ’s 
Maggie. Open your mouth, Maggie, and 
show the missis your teeth.” 

“She is a dear baby,” agreed the lady 
wistfully, patting Maggie’s little tow head 
with tender fingers. 

“Maybe you’ve got one at home, too?” 
ventured Tilda. 

“N-no, not now.” The lady’s voice was, 
oh, so sorry! A big lump came right up 
into Tilda’s throat and tears had started 
on their way when a happy idea sent them 
straight back again. 

In less than two shakes of a lambkin’s 
tail she had snatched wee Maggie from the 
gocart and landed her pat on the strange 
lady’s lap. 


LENDING THE BABY 


33 



The lady snuggled Maggie close and held out one hand to Tilda 


“I ’ll lend you my baby, missis,” she 
offered softly. “You can take her every day. 
I ’ll fetch her in the gocart and” — Tilda fal- 
tered, then continued bravely — “you can make 
b’lieve she’s yours and not ours at all.” 

“Oh, thank you, dear!” Really truly 
smiles now chased away the lady’s tears. 
She snuggled Maggie close and held out 
one hand to Tilda. 


3 



34 


A MERRY SCOUT 


“Yes, indeed, I should like to borrow 
wee Maggie often, and you, too, little 
mother! You are better than the sunshine. 
Come sit down here and tell me all about 
yourself and baby.” 

The stray passers-by smiled with friendly 
interest at the odd trio seated there so 
cozily on the park bench: cheery little Tilda 
from the tenement in her faded blue ging- 
ham, punctuating the conversation with 
intermittent bobbings of her funny, home- 
made Dutch cut; the beautiful young 
woman known to society as a wealthy 
banker’s wife — Tilda immediately had dubbed 
her “Fairy Godmother” — in an immacu- 
late white costume; and wee, rosy Maggie 
in a pink dotted calico cuddled between 
them. 

Fairy Godmother listened with a strange, 
new awakening as Tilda, with glowing 
eyes, went on to enumerate all her riches. 
First, of course, there was Maggie, the 


LENDING THE BABY 


35 


sweetest baby in the world, and dear 
Mother, who worked so hard to provide 
for them since Father’s death. Then there 
were her precious day school and Sunday 
school, the enchanted park — Tilda loved to 
pretend it was full of fairies — and there 
were Pete and the gocart, and now there 
was Fairy Godmother herself. 

“Tilda,” a light struggled bravely 
through the mist in Fairy Godmother’s 
eyes, “this is my own baby’s birthday — 
darling little Anne, who was lent to us 
for twelve happy months, then taken back 
by the Father of us all. It was to this 

same park nurse and I used to bring her, 

and so I came here today to keep her 

birthday. But your bright little selves 
have shown me a better way. Yes, I ’m 
going to borrow you both and take you 

to my home to help me change this day 
from the saddest to the gladdest day of 
all the year.” 


36 


A MERRY SCOUT 



Shortly they were spinning along in the trolley, the gocart on the rear platform 


Shortly they were spinning along in the 
trolley, with the precious gocart on the rear 
platform. And before Tilda had a chance to 
really “come to,” Fairy Godmother was say- 
ing, “Here we are.” The car stopped, the 
jolly conductor helped them out, gocart and 
all, and in a moment more Tilda found her- 
self entering the “stylishest” house she had 
ever seen. She followed on tiptoe into the 
grand hall, up the wide stairs, and stepped 



LENDING THE BABY 37 

straight into fairyland. It wasn’t any dream 
kind, either, that you wake up from right in 
the most exciting place. Tilda made sure of 
that by biting her finger hard — and it hurt . 

Fairy Godmother deposited Maggie on 
the lovely blue center of the loveliest-of-all 
rugs — Tilda’s feet were loth to tread on any 
of them. Then she touched a funny little 
button, and, presto! it was just like Arabian 
Nights, excepting it wasn’t one of the genii 
that appeared — only a pretty, rosy-cheeked 
woman, in the tiniest white cap and apron. 
She stood in the doorway, looking so surprised 
at the little strangers that Tilda became 
suddenly conscious of the patches in her 
gingham frock, and the places where there 
should have been patches in her shoes. 

“Norah,” reminded Fairy Godmother 
gently, “this is little Anne’s birthday, and 
these dear children have come to spend it 
with me and help to make it glad.” 

“Yes, marm,” responded Norah. And 


38 


A MERRY SCOUT 


Tilda followed her glance to the life-sized 
portrait of a wee blue-eyed baby as sweet- 
yes, as Maggie herself. Fairy Godmother 
had a little tete-&-t£te with Norah, who soon 
left the room, turning as she went to send an 
assuring smile to the now welcome visitors. 

Then Tilda and Maggie went to a won- 
derful concert — all the time staying just 
where they were. Ladies and gentlemen they 
couldn’t see at all came and sang to them, 
and whole orchestras and bands, all from the 
same mysterious little box, played music that 
set delicious thrills shivering down Tilda’s 
back, and her feet to beating time. Sousa’s 
band had just finished “El Capitan” when 
some sweet little chimes tinkled out in the hall. 

“Come, Tilda.” Fairy Godmother picked 
up Maggie and led the way downstairs, out to 
the honeysuckle porch overlooking the garden. 

There, as if the fairies had been at 
work, stood the dearest little table that 
ever was, on land or sea, with rosebuds 



Tilda and Maggie went to a wonderful concert — all the time staying just 
where they were 


40 


A MERRY SCOUT 


in the middle and set for just three, with 
little rosebud dishes. My! but that was a 
party for any royal princess, cocoa with 
a lovely white foam on top, tiny three- 
cornered chicken sandwiches, ice cream and 
strawberries — two plates if you wanted 
them — frosted cake and candy besides, and 
milk for Maggie from a real silver cup! 
The only sorry part of it was baby Anne 
could not be there, too, for her own birth- 
day. Probably heaven was just as nice, 
though Tilda could scarcely believe it. 

After the “party” Maggie was tucked up 
cozily on the veranda couch for a nap, and 
Tilda was escorted to the garden to meet 
General Jack, Lady Gay, Baltimore Belles, 
American Beauties, and other celebrities, 
to say nothing of the pert little Pansy 
folk, who turned up their saucy faces at her. 
And Fairy Godmother said she might pick 
all the roses she wanted, her own self. 
Fancy it — dozens of them — red, white, and 


LENDING THE BABY 


41 



Fairy Godmother said she might pick all the roses she wanted 


pink, like the grandest lady of the land! And 
every now and then, as Tilda stole a shy 
glance at Fairy Godmother’s glad face, her 
own beamed brighter than ever. 

An hour flew by as hours onlv can in 
Fairyland gardens. 

“Honk, honk!” Tilda jumped to one 
side quicker than pop, it sounded so near, 





42 


A MERRY SCOUT 


and Fairy Godmother, standing on the 
porch with wide-awake Maggie in her arms, 
laughed outright. 

“It is talking to us, Tilda,” she explained, 
“and says, ‘Come out front.’ ” 

There by the curb stood a splendid great, 
shiny auto, waiting for Tilda and Maggie. 

Out from the front seat hopped a nice 
big man with a nice big smile to match, 
to help them all in and get them settled. 

“This is ‘Fairy Godfather,’ Tilda,” intro- 
duced Fairy Godmother. “He’s heard all 
about you and Maggie over the ’phone.” 

“I ’m delighted to meet you, Miss Tilda 
and Maggie,” he said in a nice big voice 
as he held out his hand, and Tilda felt 
almost too magnificent to live. 

Norah now came flying out with a mys- 
terious box, which she handed right over 
to Tilda. Then Fairy Godfather packed in 
the gocart and away they whizzed for the 
tenement — by way of the shore. 


LENDING THE BABY 


43 


Two hours later, when tired Mother 
came home from her long day’s work, a 
radiant and breathless Tilda met her at 
the door and invited her to a royal spread. 

“Do have some more cake and another 
cup of tea,’’ insisted the little hostess gayly. 
“And just think, Mother, a trip to the 
country for all of us for two whole weeks! 
Isn’t it grand? And there’ll be cows and 
chickens and green grass and flowers, and 
the rent paid all the while we ’re gone ! 
But most the wonderfulest part of it all”— 
Tilda’s eyes grew starry — “was how Fairy 
Godmother kept getting gladder ’n’ gladder 
all the time. And she said ‘thank you’ to 
me, Mother, and Fairy Godfather did, too, 
’s if I’d done anything, when you know 
positive sure I never did one single thing 
’cept lending Maggie.” 

“I ’m not so sure about that, dear.” 
And Mother patted the scraggly Dutch cut 
tenderly, smiling into Tilda’s questioning eyes. 


ROBERT’S ADVENTURE 


“Good-by, Robert,” called Mother, as 
she and Father drove off for the city one 
summer afternoon. “Don’t forget to fill the 
wood box, dear, and to feed the chickens.” 

“Good-by,” answered the boy from the 
stone wall, without looking up. 

Robert was discontented. He was tired 
of filling the wood box and feeding the 
chickens every day, and for only five cents 
a week. Five cents a ' week! Yes, that was 
all he had to spend for candy, marbles, and 
everything, while Timmie Marsh, who lived 
down the road, had a nickel about every 
day, and he never had to work at all. 

Robert had been thinking and thinking 
what could be done about it, and at last 
he had made up his mind. He would go 
to Blakeville that very afternoon to old 


44 


ROBERT'S ADVENTURE 


45 


Nurse Tucker’s. He could walk four miles 
easily, and Nurse would be so glad to see 
him. 

“Of course,” he said to himself, “I’ll 
write to Mother, so she’ll know I’m not 
drowned or anything. And I’ll tell her how 
Nurse gives me five cents for candy every 
day — ’course she will — and how I don’t 
have to do any work, either. Then won’t 
Daddy come for me quick and say if I’ll 
only go back with him, I needn’t bring in 
the wood or feed the chickens or do any- 
thing unless I feel like it,' and I can have 
all the money I want, besides!” 

And now, as the buckboard vanished 
in the distance, Robert turned toward the 
house to carry out his plan. He could hear 
Mandy, the hired girl, singing at her work 
as he tiptoed cautiously in at the wood-shed 
door and up to his room. 

After giving his hair one hasty stroke 
with the brush and putting on his Sunday 


46 


A MERRY SCOUT 


shoes and stockings, he considered his toilet 
completed and was soon stealing out of the 
wood shed again, unobserved by Mandy. 

A moment later Robert was skulking 
through the barnyard, making a bee line for 
the blueberry lot and the turnpike. But 
what made the chickens act so queerly? 
Mrs. Bantam, with her head cocked on one 
side, eyed him suspiciously as he crept along, 
while the great white rooster flew upon the 
coop and screamed right out, so loud that 
Robert feared the whole village would hear. 
“ What-you-going-to-do-oo f What-yougoing -to- 
do-oo f* Robert did not think best to answer, 
but was only more eager than ever to move 
on his journey. 

He had no sooner struck the blueberry 
lot, however, than Lady Ann, the Jersey cow, 
started for him, and, poking out her head, 
exclaimed in mild surprise, “ Oo-oo ! oo-oo!" 

And he had barely reached the road, 
when, to cap the climax, the sheep from 



“ What-you- going-to-do-oo? 


What-you-going-lo-do-oo ?” 


* 





48 


A MERRY SCOUT 


the stony pasture across the way began to 
chide him. “Ba-ad! Ba-ad ! ” they bleated. 

“No, I’m not bad, either!” cried Robert 
almost in tears. Here he had gone cross- 
lots purposely to escape the villagers and 
now the animals were all after him! And, 
stuffing his fingers in his ears, he began to run. 

The summer sun was blazing; still Robert 
kept on, though with ever-slackening speed, 
meeting no one but a stray dog or two 
and an occasional ox-team with its sleepy 
driver. At length he came to a big sign 
post which read: 

BLAKEVILLE 3 MILES 
“P’r’aps I’d better sit down a minute,” 
he said to himself. “I’m not tired, of course, 
and my shoes don’t hurt — only just a little 
bit. I guess there won’t be anybody to catch 
me ’way out here.” And as he sat rubbing 
his hands over the shoes that did not hurt, 
he encouraged himself with visions of the 
candy counter at Nurse’s village store. 


ROBERT’S ADVENTURE 


49 


“Why, Robert, little man, what are you 
doing so far from home?” There was no 
escaping an answer this time, for it was 
Mrs. Bronson, the minister’s wife, who stood 
before him. 

“O — er, I’m— er going for a walk, Mrs. 
Bronson,” he stammered, jumping up; and, 
taking off his cap, he turned on his heel 
and started on again, never once daring to 
look behind. 

But the Sunday shoes were soon pinch- 
ing in good earnest. He could stand them 
no longer, so he pulled them off, and, swing- 
ing them on his shoulder, went on in his 
stocking feet. 

Uphill and downhill he trudged. How 
hot the sun was! And how tired and bruised 
his poor feet were getting! 

“I guess I’ll take another little rest,” 
he said as he limped across the road. “It’s 
nice and shady here by the brook and I am 
some tired.” 


50 


A MERRY SCOUT 


Down upon the sweet green grass he 
lay. The candy counter at Blakeville was 
beginning to lose its charm, and — 

Robert sat up in a sudden fright. A 
solemn voice was calling to him from the 
woods: “ Bubby-gu-hum ! Bubby-gn-hum! 

Robert turned fearfully, and there, on a 
stone in the brook, sat a great, blinking frog. 

“I won’t go home, you naughty frog!” 
he cried. “ I’m going to Nurse’s.” Then, 
ka-splash! and Mr. Frog had disappeared. 

There was a queer buzzing in Robert’s 
head, and presently he was fast asleep in 
spite of himself. 

The sun set. The little boy slept on. 
A cool breeze came up, and Robert tried 
to pull the bedclothes over him, but there 
weren’t any clothes to pull — and he awoke. 

He sat up and looked around. What 
could it all mean ? When finally it dawned 
upon him where he was, he set up a wail 
and then stood in bewilderment. 


ROBERT’S ADVENTURE 


51 



In a moment he started in fresh horror, 
hearing wheels close at hand. 

“Supposing it’s gypsies,” he groaned, 
“and they should carry me off! Oh dear! 
Oh dear !” 

Nearer came the wheels. There was no 
way of escape. All he could do was to 


52 


A MERRY SCOUT 


drop down beside the road and keep so still 
maybe they ’d think he was a log of wood. 

Now he heard voices. There might be 
twenty of them. Twenty gypsies ! Could 
it be they were going by without noticing 
him ? Robert hardly dared to breathe. 

“Whoa there! What’s this?” 

A big man leaped from the team. Robert 
closed his eyes and tried to pray. But all 
that he could think of was, “Now I lay 
me,” and that would never do. 

A lantern was flashed in his face. 
“Bless my stars, if it isn’t our own Robert!” 

“O Daddy, Daddy!” sobbed a frightened 
little voice. 

Two strong arms lifted the shivering 
little fellow and placed him in the buck- 
board right beside his own mother. 

“Robert, Robert!” she cried tremu- 
lously. “How did you ever get way out 
here at this time of night? — and in your 
stocking feet ! ” 


ROBERT’S ADVENTURE 


53 



“Oh> Mother , I want to go home , and I y ll bring in the wood , 
and feed the chickens'* 


“Oh, Mother, I was g-going to Nurse’s 
and my shoes hurt and I went to sleep, but 
I don ’t want to go there any m-more. I 
want to go ho-home, and I’ll bring in the 
wood, and f-feed the chickens every day, 
and you need n’t give me any m-money 
at all!” 




54 


A MERRY SCOUT 


Then Mother, who was a wonderful 
magician, understood all about it. 

“Oh,” she cried softly, “supposing we 
had gone home by the other road!” 

But Father said, “Let’s see. It isn’t 
too late yet. Shan’t we turn around and 
carry him to Blakeville?” 

“Oh, no, no!” pleaded Robert, clutch- 
ing his father’s arm, “I want to go ho-ome." 

“Humph! you’ve really changed your 
mind then, have you? Well if that’s the 
case, we’ll jog right along. Get up, Daisy.” 

And Robert, snuggled there up against 
Mother, so safe and warm, at that moment 
would not have changed places with any 
boy living ; no, not even for all the candy 
in the Blakeville store ! 


SANDY’S VALENTINE 


“Tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day, Jeanie.” 

“Yes, Sandy, I know.” Jeanie turned 
gently to the little brother, whose face was 
all swollen with mumps. 

“Say, Jeanie, wouldn’t it be nice to 
have a truly valentine with lace and angels 
on it, like what’s in the store windows? 
Do you ’spose I will get one tomorrow?” 
he asked wistfully. 

“Maybe you will, Sandy.” Jeanie 
smiled bravely, but her heart ached for the 
disappointment she feared was in store for 
him. How she was longing for a “truly” 
valentine herself, she did not breathe to 
Sandy. 

There were many things that sadly 
puzzled seven-year-old Jeanie. Why should 
Father have gone to heaven to stay forever 


55 


56 


A MERRY SCOUT 


when they all needed him so badly? Why 
did the rent man come so often to take 
all Mother’s money as fast as she saved it? 
Why did the grocer never bring a turkey to 
their house on Thanksgiving or Christmas? 
And why did the postman never stop at their 
door, even on holidays, when he had so many 
packages? It seemed as if one, at least, 
must certainly be meant for them. 

Jeanie was turning it all over in her 
mind now, as she made Sandy’s bed, this 
morning before Valentine’s Day, when sud- 
denly a bright idea came into her head, and, 
darting across the room to a rickety little 
table, she opened the drawer and pulled out 
a piece of druggists’ white paper. Smooth- 
ing it out on the table, she folded the two 
short edges carefully together. 

“It looks just like boughten letter paper 
now, don’t it, Sandy? But you mustn’t ask 
a single question, because it’s a surprise,” 
she said, settling herself to write. Then for 


SANDY’S VALENTINE 


57 



Jeanie was turning it all over in her mind as she made Sandy’s bed 


thirty long minutes, Jeanie’s stub pencil 
crawled painfully over the white surface. 
It was a hard task for her, especially as 
Mother wasn’t at home to help with the 
spelling. 

At last Jeanie heaved a deep sigh of 
relief. “ There,” she said aloud, “ it ’s all ready 
now but the unvelope.” Whereupon she took 




58 


A MERRY SCOUT 


from the family Bible a treasured envelope 
she had picked up in the street one day. 

“It’s a perfectly good unvelope, all 
unstuck same’s a new one,” she said to her- 
self “and a nice green stamp on it. All the 
matter is, it’s wrote on a little, but I can 
scratch that out all right.” And soon the 
second-hand envelope was ready and the 
letter tucked inside. 

“I must go to school now, Sandy!” 
cried Jeanie, running for her coat and hat. 
“Mother’ll be home pretty soon. Good-by.” 
In a moment she was out of the door and 
hurrying to the mail box on the corner, 
where, standing on tiptoe, she dropped in 
the precious missive. 

That noon, as Postman Green sat at 
dinner with his wife, he suddenly exclaimed, 
“Oh, I ’most forgot my valentine!” and 
he pulled from his pocket a sorry- looking 
envelope, directed to “Mister Postman him- 
self.” 



. 












hfTtnirTg 



Jeame, standing on tiptoe , dropped in the precious missive 







60 


A MERRY SCOUT 


“From one of my young admirers on 
Gregory Street,” he laughed, passing it to 
to his wife. 

Mrs. Green tore it open. “Why, it’s a 
letter,” she said, proceeding to read aloud : 
Dear Mr. Postman: 

I thort I wood rite you about Sandy’s valuntin; 
he wants one orful — one of those kind with lace and 
angels on it what come in unvelops. He has got the 
mumps and can’t go out, and Mother ain’t got any 
money to buy a valuntin, and father has been in 
heaven a long time. Won’t you plees look everywhere 
around the post-orfice, and in all the boxes on the 
lamp-posts, and see if you can’t find one for him? 
His name is Sandy Keith, and we live in the little 
brown house, number 27 Gregory Street, wher you 
don’t ever stop, even on Christmus. I will be looking 
for you at the winder tomorer noon. Plees don’t go 
by or cross the street this time. 

From your frend, 

Jeanie Keith 

“Poor little things! They mustn’t be 
disappointed!” cried Mrs. Green. 

“ Indeed, they shan’t be,” answered the 
postman soberly. “ I ’ve just thought up 


SANDY’S VALENTINE 


61 



The door was opened by a pale-faced little girl, leaning on a crutch 


the nicest little scheme. I’ll tell you how 
it all comes out tomorrow.” 

Late that afternoon Postman Green rang 
the bell of a fine stone house on Hillside 
Avenue. The door was opened quickly by 
a pale-faced little girl, leaning on a crutch. 

“Only five of them for you in this 
mail,” laughed the postman, as she held out 


62 


A MERRY SCOUT 


her hand, “but here’s a valentine / got this 
morning I’d like you to see. I’ll call for 
it tomorrow.” 

“Poor little rich girl!” he said to him- 
self, as he went away. “She’ll have some- 
thing new to amuse her now.” 

The next noon Jeanie came home from 
school in a quiver of excitement. Sandy 
met her with a rueful face. “ It ain’t come, 
Jeanie,” he cried reproachfully. 

“But Valentine’s Day isn’t over yet,” 
laughed Jeanie gaily. And, dinner dis- 
patched as soon as possible, she took her 
stand at the window. 

At that moment, several blocks away, 
the postman was again stopping at the door 
of the great stone house. 

“I’m so glad that you showed me your 
valentine,” the little girl on the crutch was 
saying, with sparkling eyes, “else I’d never 
have known anything about them. Thank 
you so much. It’s the best fun I ever had.” 


SANDY’S VALENTINE 


63 


It seemed a long time to Jeanie, 
stationed at the window, before the familiar 
blue coat came in sight. 

“Oh, here he comes, Sandy!” she cried 
at last, clasping her hands tightly together, 
“and he sees me, and he’s waving some- 
thing white ! ” 

Jeanie flew to the door and opened it 
before the postman had time to ring. 

“ For Master Sandy Keith,” he announced, 
holding out a great white envelope. 

“That’s him, that’s him!” cried Jeanie 
wildly, pointing to Sandy, who, regardless of 
mumps, had followed her. “Oh, thank you, 
Mister Postman! I knew you’d come. But 
where did you ever find such a big one?” 

“For Miss Jeanie Keith,” continued the 
postman, not seeming to hear, taking from 
his pack another envelope as big as the first. 

“Why, that’s me!” Jeanie caught her 
breath. “And I wanted one awful. But how 
did you know?” The postman only smiled. 


64 


A MERRY SCOUT 


“By the way,” he said, as he turned 
to go, “I’ll be stopping again before long. 
There’s a Christmas box that ought to have 
been left here nearly two months ago. I ’m 
real sorry I ’ve neglected you all this while.” 
Then he hurried off. 

Such valentines were never seen in 
Gregory Street before as were set up in the 
window of number twenty-seven that day, 
nor two such bright faces as peeped out 
from behind. 

“Do you ’spose there’s anybody in the 
whole world as happy as we are, Sandy?” 
Jeanie asked a dozen times over. 

“ ’ Course not ! ” responded Sandy indig- 
nantly each time. 

But they did not know about the little 
girl on a crutch in the fine stone house, 
who was brimming over with joy that day 
because she had adopted two little stranger 
friends, to be their valentine the whole year 
round. 


































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